


The Confidant

by apolesen



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Canon Queer Character, Coming Out, Gen, Military Homophobia, UNIT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:17:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolesen/pseuds/apolesen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike Yates finds someone to confide in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Confidant

After the military order of the rest of UNIT HQ, the clutter of the laboratory was always something of a shock. Mike Yates’ knock on the open door had gone unanswered. The Doctor was crouched over his work-bench, loupe in his eye-socket and tools in both hands. Mike wavered in the doorway It was tempting to use the Doctor’s complete absorption in his project as an excuse to leave. He would be able to tell himself that he hadn’t talked to him because he didn’t want to disturb him, rather than because he had lost his nerve. Not that he had had his nerve in the first place. Ever since he got this idea, a part of him had been resisting it, and for good reason. That he had come this far, standing on the threshold of the laboratory, searching for an opening line, was bad enough. He should leave now, before it was too late. Pull secrecy over his head and be content. 

Instead, he stepped in. 

‘Still tinkering away at that circuit, Doctor?’ 

The Doctor grumbled, not looking up. 

‘“Tinkering” is not a very nice word for what I do, Captain.’ He applied one of his tools to the circuit on the bench. A spark flew from the point of contact, and the Doctor flung the tool away in frustration. ‘Not that I’m getting anywhere with it.’ 

‘Where’s Jo?’ Mike asked. 

‘Oh, I sent her home,’ the Doctor said, removing the loupe from his eye and putting it on the bench. ‘There’s only so many cups of tea a girl can make.’ 

Mike laughed dutifully. 

‘Is Bessie still on blocks?’ 

‘No, she’s up and running again,’ the Doctor said. He picked up the circuit and inspected it, then, as if suddenly suspicious, looked up at Mike. ‘How come you ask?’ 

‘Oh,’ Mike said and shrugged. He did his best, but he could not make it sound casual enough. ‘If you’re at a loose end… Perhaps we could go for a spin?’ 

The Doctor put down the circuit and looked at him. His gaze was as imperious as ever, but there was something searching as well. 

‘Abandoning your post, Mike?’ 

‘I’m off duty,’ Mike said. ‘Since about ten minutes ago.’ 

‘Shouldn’t you be going back to your digs?’ 

‘Well, it’s a nice evening,’ he said, aware how weak it sounded. The Doctor watched him for a moment longer, as if trying to read something on his face. Then he stood up. 

‘Very well.’ He picked up his cape and put it on, in a whirl of satin. ‘Come along, Captain.’ 

The Doctor lead the way to the garage, Mike following a step behind. He expected the Doctor would assume that it was just military training, making him follow a superior, rather than making sure that his face did not betray more. He had an unsettling feeling that the Doctor sensed that there was something on his mind. When they reached the car and they climbed in, Mike thought the silence was charged. Perhaps he was just his imagination - projecting his own tenseness onto the outside situation. There was no way of telling. 

The vintage car spluttered to life. They drove out of the complex onto the road. Soon they were going fast enough that Mike was grabbing his hat. Beside him, the Doctor concentrated on the task of driving. The way he was smiling to himself made Mike wonder whether he had forgotten he was there. Again, he felt his doubts stir. It was impossible to have a conversation in an open car, going this fast. Maybe it would only amount to this - a spin in the Doctor’s car - and nothing else. Maybe that was for the best. 

After they had driven some ten minutes, the car slowed, and the Doctor turned off the road. As he manoeuvred the car down a country-lane, his concentration seemed to return to the surroundings. At length, they turned a corner, and the Doctor killed the engine. 

Fields spread out in front of them, reaching towards the horizon. In the west, the sky was blushing.

‘I come here sometimes, when I get homesick,’ the Doctor said. ‘To remind myself that it’s not so bad. For all its flaws, your planet has beautiful sunsets.’ He looked up at the sky wistfully. ‘It’s a good spot for stargazing too. Sometimes I plan where I’ll go, once I get the TARDIS working again.’ He sighed. ‘Until then, there are always the sunsets.’ He leaned back in the driver’s seat and turned his eyes towards where the clouds were turning a strange blue against the sky’s pink. ‘Take your time, Mike.’ 

A band of purple was forming by the horizon. It broke off abruptly into pinks, which paled as it climbed the domed sky. Over the fields, the light sloped. The shadows of lone trees lengthened. The sun was nowhere to be seen now. All that remained was a burning line between the purple and the darkening earth. Slowly, it was growing cold. 

‘I think…’ Mike said, but the words would not come. His mouth felt dry and his throat felt tight. He paused, afraid that his voice might break. Retreating, he took a few deep breaths. He had not expected it to be so difficult to control his voice, or even use it. The words were there in his head, but it felt like they stuck against the roof of his mouth and would not be pronounced. 

The pinks and purples had grown bright. Some white strips of cloud stood in stark contrast to the bold colours. It looked like some beast was devouring the sky. High above them, the blue sky was deepening. It was just possible make out the pale moon against the darkening sky. 

Mike breathed in, held his breath and let it out. 

‘I think I’m a homosexual.’ 

He dared not look at the Doctor, but he was aware of his profile in the corner of his eye. He could see no signs of shock or even surprise. 

‘I see.’ The words which could have been so harsh instead sounded kind. He did not say more. Mike assumed that he was waiting for him to continue. It felt like his words had run out. What had he expected to feel? Relief, perhaps. Or terror. As it were, he did not know quite which he felt. What he had certainly expected was that when he voiced that one fact, it would all follow easily. Instead, he felt that he did not know where to start. 

He felt oddly grateful when the Doctor spoke again. 

‘I gather you haven’t talked much about it?’ 

Mike shook his head. 

‘I’ve never told anyone before.’ He looked at his hands, clasped in his lap. ‘I couldn’t.’ 

‘It’s not illegal anymore,’ the Doctor said. 

‘In the Army it is - in practice at least.’ 

‘Ah.’ 

Mike unclasped his hands and straightened up. 

‘If anyone at UNIT found out… if there was as much as a rumour… I’d be in trouble.’ 

‘Are there rumours?’ 

‘Not as far as I know.’ He hesitated, then said: ‘It feels like it’s really just a matter of time. Eventually someone will figure it out.’ 

‘And if someone does?’ 

‘I’ll be discharged. Can’t have men like me in command. It’s “bad for morale”.’ The words were like a bad taste in his mouth. As he spoke them, he realised that he half believed them.

‘Well, I’ve heard no rumours,’ the Doctor said, sounding as certain as when he explained some of his strange experiments. ‘Although I expect I’m not the most well-informed about canteen gossip.’ 

‘I couldn’t think who else to tell,’ Mike said. ‘It’s one of the problems with working for a secret organisation. It’s rather difficult to get to know people outside it. And anyone else…’ He cut himself off. His imagination presented him with a scene where everyone knew. In his mind’s eye he saw disappointment and disgust on the familiar faces - his men, the Brigadier, Benton. His every past action would be reinterpreted as charged with suppressed erotic interest. He could not bear the thought of it, much less the knowledge that it might come to pass. ‘But I had to tell someone. I feel like I’m about to explode.’ 

The Doctor turned his head fractionally towards him.

‘It must be very difficult for you.’ 

The lump in his throat came back. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry. The fear had not let go, but the reassurance in the Doctor’s voice touched him. He looked at him now; he was watching the sky again, brows knitted, one gloved hand still on the steering wheel. 

‘In the past, it hasn’t really been a problem,’ Mike said. ‘I’ve been able to keep it separate, so I haven’t thought very much about it. But recently, it’s become much worse. I don’t know how long I can stand it.’ 

He was aware of the Doctor watching him now. 

‘And your situation being what it is, you are short on options.’ 

‘There’s really nothing I can do,’ Mike said. The only solutions he could think of were far too drastic. 

‘I know something about this country’s future,’ the Doctor said, ‘and I’m sorry to say that the Army’s ridiculous stance on sexual orientation is nothing that is about to change anytime soon.’ 

‘I didn’t think it would.’ 

‘If you really find your situation is untenable… How would you feel about civilian life?’ 

Mike shrugged helplessly. 

‘What would I do?’ he asked. ‘The Army is my life. I don’t want to resign. I love it.’ 

The Doctor watched him. 

‘Enough to pay that price?’ 

Now, Mike hesitated. 

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted finally. ‘A year or so ago, it wasn’t even a question. I’ve always known what I’ve wanted, and it has been to serve. I could still not imagine _not_ doing it, but… Sometimes I feel like it’s all so hopeless.’ 

From the corner of his eye, he was aware of the concern on the Doctor’s face, but when he spoke, he sounded stern. 

‘My dear fellow, I ask you not to do anything rash.’ 

‘I’m not about to,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know quite what to do. I love my work, but I can’t be true to myself.’ He sighed, frustrated. ‘It sounds like a cliché, but it’s true.’ 

‘It’s a conflict I cannot solve for you,’ the Doctor said. ‘All the advice I can give you is not to cling to what is destroying you.’ 

‘Easier said than done,’ Mike said gloomily. He tried to imagine working in an office, and then thought of all the things UNIT gave him. The structure, the purpose, the excitement. For a fleeting moment, he was convinced that it would be worth going to any lengths to hide his sexuality to keep that. The certainty passed, leaving only unease. The love to his duty remained. If he were to leave UNIT, all that security would disappear. ‘If I do resign, I’ll have nothing.’

‘Would it help to talk to an independent party?’ the Doctor asked. 

‘Aren’t you one?’ Mike said. ‘You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you?’ 

‘Of course not, dear chap. But I can’t say I’m completely independent - if only because I’m on your side. I was rather thinking someone completely divorced from the military.’ 

‘You mean like a priest? Or a therapist?’ There was some distaste in the way he said that word.

‘I was thinking the latter rather than the former, but whatever you would find more fitting.’ 

Mike shook his head. 

‘No. I wouldn’t dare. I can’t risk word getting out…’ 

‘They would be bound by confidentiality,’ the Doctor reminded him. 

‘Still, I can’t take any risks.’ 

The Doctor shrugged, as if he thought it had been worth a try. 

‘I appreciate it, Doctor,’ Mike said. ‘But… there’s the issue of blackmail.’ 

The Doctor sighed. 

‘Of course,’ he muttered. ‘Two of the worst human traits combined - bigotry and greed.’ 

‘I can’t put myself in that situation,’ Mike said. ‘If it came to that… if the choice was between being exposed and…’ He trailed off. The thought of the things he might be made to do made him feel cold inside. ‘It’s not just about money. I have access to classified material. If they asked me for that… The rules are there for a reason, Doctor.’ 

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ 

‘I could become a security risk.’ 

The Doctor looked at him. 

‘You’re a good officer, Mike,’ he said with conviction. ‘A good man.’ 

‘Does that matter?’ Mike said hopelessly. ‘I don’t know if I’d be able to be unselfish enough not to give in.’ 

‘So we make sure that there is no way you can end up in such a situation,’ the Doctor said. Mike nodded, a little encouraged. ‘Do you know whether there is anything now that might be used for that purpose? Letters, for example?’ 

‘No. Nothing.’ 

‘That might be some comfort,’ the Doctor said. 

‘I suppose so.’ 

As they had spoken, the fire on the horizon had been extinguished. The spectacle had died down, into a deep lilac and blue. 

‘I have one question.’ The Doctor’s sudden sternness made him straighten up. A military posture was a kind of protection.

‘Yes, Doctor?’ 

‘I would like to know your intentions towards Jo.’ 

Mike hesitated. Jo had to some extent been an experiment, or at least a way of trying to figure out what he was feeling. A few months ago he had been - or thought he had been - attracted to her. He had thought that eventually, he wouldn’t mind sleeping with her. They had kissed once, at her door after a dinner date, and he had enjoyed that. He had felt strangely proud about that fact. He had proven something to himself, and to others. Even if Jo was not a way of covering up his own short-comings, he felt that here was some kind of proof that he wasn’t like _that_ after all. 

But it wasn’t mutually exclusive, was it? Whatever he felt for Jo did not negate his thoughts, feelings, impulses towards men. That realisation made him start worrying again. It had not helped that he had started doubting what he had felt. Now he felt that he would not be able to go through with it after all. He could not figure out whether he was reevaluating his previous feelings, or whether they were changing, and, consequently, whether he too was changing. A few months ago he had thought he might be a bisexual, but for now, he was back thinking he was homosexual. For all he knew, he might change his mind again, hence the cautionary ‘think’. The specifics continued to eluded him. He knew that to the Army, they would not matter - one was as bad as the other.

‘I do like Jo - genuinely,’ he said, choosing his words carefully. ‘I’m not trying to use her as a disguise or anything. I want her to be happy. I may not have been able to be completely upfront with her, but I’ve tried to be as considerate as possible.’ He paused, embarrassed. ‘To be perfectly frank, I haven’t really figured out what I feel about women. You’d think that would have come first, but… it didn’t, in my case.’ 

The Doctor considered his answer. 

‘Thank you,’ he said finally, ‘for the honest answer.’ 

‘I don’t think it’s really going to lead anywhere,’ Mike said. ‘Probably better if it doesn’t.’ Even if he had come to that conclusion before, it pained him to say it out loud. He wanted to say something more, something about that he knew that Jo meant at lot to the Doctor, but he could not find a way to word it. Talking about himself was bad enough. Trying to talk about the Doctor’s feelings would be crossing a boundary, and he doubted he would thank him for that. 

The deep-blue of the sky was darkening to black. Above them, stars were appearing. One star at a time, the constellations were taking form. The Doctor turned his face towards them. Mike watched as his eyes fixed on the distant suns and worlds. For all his eccentricity, it was easy to forget that the Doctor was alien. Now, he sensed a frustration in the Doctor much like his own - longing for something impossible. 

The Doctor sighed and looked away. 

‘Sometimes,’ he said, ‘we find ourselves in unbearable situations. And at times, we cannot do anything but learn to bear them. But remember that your situation is not like that, Mike. It is not unchangeable. You have free will. Make an active choice. Do you understand?’ 

‘Yes, but…’

‘Whatever you choose, let it be because you have chosen it. Don’t watch on passively as your life passes you by.’ He looked him in the eye. There was something so sincere in his gaze that Mike was taken aback at the tenderness of it. ‘You owe yourself that.’ 

He exhaled. 

‘Yes. I’ll try.’ 

The Doctor smiled sadly. 

‘Good. That’ll have to do.’

With a last look at the unreachable stars, he turned the ignition and drove them back in silence.


End file.
